Phantom Hollow make thick my blood

The fog had long since disappeared by the time that her call sounded through the trees. Guildenstern had stopped at the edge of the winding river. Bent over, quenching his thirst, the great white knight filled until his throat no longer ached with the need for it, and turned his head toward the pale woman’s summons. From his scraggly chin dripped the remnants of the river water. Overhead, the sound of birds in the trees carried a musical note throughout the hollow. They passed just as soon as they had arrived, for the hollow did not seem to be a place for many living things. There was a ghostly air to the wood and the moss that hung against the stones and bark of the trees seemed to breathe with the spirits of the forest.
 
The knight moved through the hollow as swiftly as his limbs would permit. The wood did not seem to prevent him from taking powerful strides, from one place to the next. Before long, Guildenstern had covered a vast stretch of earth and the scent of the woman was closer to him than it had been before. It was here that he paused and searched the wood – nose to the earth – for signs of where she had gone.
 
A ghostly flash of pale white passed before him, and there she was. The narrow features of her face coupled with the horrific scars that were spattered across her surface. Had he not known any better, Guildenstern would have imagined that this woman was already a warhound. After the few short times that he had found himself in her company, the pallid beast had found that she was much softer than her appearance would suggest. While she may have been marred by the vicious force of another, she had not allowed it to cripple her. It was the start to something that he knew would amount in a great transition for the desperate mother.
 
“To fight? To battle? To win?”
 
They were all so very different. Fighting was necessary. It was something that they did on a regular basis without truly realizing it. They fought for every moment that they were alive. Battle was something else entirely. Guildenstern had seen himself at the front of many large wars. He had known the raging of the warriors around him, and the force of fear that came with the arrival of their adversaries. To win… well, the knight was not entirely certain that such a thing could be taught to another. It was a measure of spirit, and just how much that spirit could take.
 
“It will not be easy.”